


memories hurt

by Rozjozbrod



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: Agents of SHIELD, Angst, F/M, Flashback, Fluff, Marvel - Freeform, Season Five Speculation, and pre framework?, gimme something like this in canon and I'll straight up die, post framework, thats how flashback fics work I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozjozbrod/pseuds/Rozjozbrod
Summary: Post-framework season five speculation fic where Fitz struggles reconciling the life he knew before with Jemma and the harsh reality of their new situation.





	memories hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I love angst and I love exchanging headcanons with @jewishfitz about how we're gonna suffer next season. Enjoy!

ii. 

He didn’t know where his dream ended and his morning began, but his first coherent thought of the day was that the world could end, right here, and he would be at peace. The window was open, and the curtains floated gracefully as the early morning breeze chilled their bedroom and made it easier for him to bury himself deeply under the covers. 

Outside, the first rays of sunlight were stretching over the rolling green hills, turning everything in the country to a pale gold. The rain clouds from the previous night had parted, and the air was fresh and clean after the autumn storm. Chirping happily in the trees, birds sang to each other and celebrated another beautiful morning.   
But as beautiful as the morning was, it was nothing compared to the loveliness of the girl who lay beside him, still looking young with sleep. Her soft brown hair fanned over the pillow and her chest rose and fell rhythmically with her breathing. He was spellbound for only a moment before he leaned over and kissed her shoulder, quietly thinking that he was nothing short of the luckiest man alive to wake up beside her. Slowly, she roused, nestling deeper into her pillow.

“Morning.” He said softly.

She hummed, not opening her eyes and he grinned, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss lightly on her spine. They stayed like that for a while, limbs intertwined, before she sighed and turned so that they were facing each other.

“You slept well.” He noted, touching her cheek.

“Your bed is more comfortable than the one at the Playground.” She told him.

“Now you know why I always grumble in the mornings.” He said.

“Oh, is that why?” She smiled, breathtakingly. 

He knew she jested and he smiled only peacefully at her in return; he was far to comfortable to respond. He reached for her hands under the mess of soft blankets, and brought them in between their bodies, kissing and brushing his lips over the pad of each of her fingers in turn. 

“I love you.” He heard her say.

He didn’t have to say it back. He loved her fiercely and softly, with her face fresh from restful sleep, and the smell of rain on the air. He loved her with their bodies wrapped together and the sweet sounds of a Scottish morning fading to a din as she smiled at him.

Without hardly breathing, he leaned forward and caught her lips with his, pulling her gently towards him. She kissed him back, with some difficulty, as her lips were tightening in a smile. She tasted like new beginnings and peppermint toothpaste, and he kissed her bottom lip and her upper lip and then everywhere he could reach with as much of his heart as he could. Her hand snaked up his neck and tangled in the curls at the base of his head, changing the angle of their embrace so that she could suck gently on his tongue, and he felt himself go boneless at her touch. 

And in that moment, he thought he might die of happiness.

iii.

He sat straight up in bed, breathing like he'd just run a mile. His t-shirt was sticky with cold sweat and he gasped lungfuls of artificial air, eyes streaming as he tried to calm himself. The softly lit peace of his memory faded quickly as slowly, painfully, he regained his senses and he chanced a glance over to her side of the bed. He could barely make out her shape in the dim light. 

The vent above their bed rattled every time it spun, and he fidgeted to get comfortable, not wanting to wake her, but now too restless to stay still. Late into the night, he had felt the bed shake late as she had tried to stifle her shaking sobs, and thought that the least he could do would be to let her try and get a few more minutes of sleep. Though he'd just woken, his eyes were dry with exhaustion, and he blinked blearily at the watch around his wrist; it was the only personal item he’d been allowed to keep when they were relocated to the S.W.O.R.D. facility in space. It was early morning back home. 

The room’s metal walls were dull and unpolished, uniformly shaped just like the entire base. Stencilled letters beside their bed read “Room 317,” and the crack of light under the door was shiny and phosphorescent. Dry air hung in the room, moved only slightly by the rattling vent. Though he was covered in a blanket, he was cold.

He yearned to hold her like he had before; but just a glance at the other side of the bed, where her body curved away from his, made him ache. Memories of another life bubbled to the surface every time he tried to touch her, and he recoiled from them like the images were venomous. Turning away, he wondered how he could be so close to her yet still feel miles away. He missed her and had absolutely no right to. 

Guilt rose like bile in his throat and in that moment, he thought he might die of loneliness.


End file.
